


Lucky Chant

by forwardarcadia



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Gold & Silver & Crystal | Pokemon Gold Silver Crystal Versions, Pocket Monsters: Red & Green & Blue & Yellow | Pokemon Red Green Blue Yellow Versions
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3275426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forwardarcadia/pseuds/forwardarcadia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for Christmas, so I only blame myself for what goes down here. Drunk and disorderly escapades at Indigo’s Plateau for the holidays, everybody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky Chant

s close as Kanto and Johto were, it was natural their citizens would mix together on occasion. Indeed, many of their Gym Leaders and other public figures had forged all manner of bonds. Whether they be close friendships, bitter rivalries, or sweeping affairs, there was no denying the unshakable link between these neighboring regions.

As such, it was tradition for all to gather at Indigo Plateau at the year’s end to celebrate their triumphs. There was cause for reflection as well, but that typically took a backseat to more merry festivities. 

There, among their shared space, hung countless lengths of tinsel and lights all about. Some adorned a towering Abomasnow, who’d taken up residence as a temporary decoration. Others sat against walls and hallways, occasionally sagging against photos of Elites and Champions from times past. 

Having indulged in a feast of exquisite food and drink earlier, all the invited guests currently sat in the League’s parlor. The area had been festively decorated as well, with a roaring fire as another centerpiece of sorts. To accompany those fresh flames were the innumerable faces of Gym Leaders, Elites and Battle Frontier staff alike, glowing as bright with their own cheer and goodwill. 

"Hey, look, it’s our Delibird!" Whitney called out, pointing to the humble creature lumbering towards their group. Naturally adorned in festive red and white plumage, it smiled brightly as it waddled to their sizable Abomasnow to deliver its bounty. Once there, it rested its heavily bulging, sack-like tail, attempting to open it. 

As its ivory appendage shook and rustled violently, the Delibird jumped back as if startled. Eyes wide, it stared avidly as various gifts sprang forth from his feathery confines. As the items cleared away, a young boy’s disheveled form was revealed. Gasping heavily for air, he adjusted his gold cap, brushing stray strands of obsidian away.

"Ethan?!" Karen inquired sharply, slamming a wine glass on a table in surprise. The others watched on, rendered speechless by his presence. "What are you doing here?!" 

"It was a surprise-" he breathed out, clearly still winded from his stint. Gray eyes squinted to adjust to their new surroundings, ablaze in bright lights, both large and small. The boy shook his head a bit as he stepped from Delibird’s spacious tail. "I wanted to see everybody before I went home to New Bark."

Inhaling warmed air to reheat his chilled lungs, Ethan moved away from the bewildered Pokemon, steps rather shaky. Silently refusing the Elites’ and Gym Leaders’ assistance, he stumbled to a couch occupied by Lance’s dozing form, laid down on his belly. As the boy collapsed near the Dragon Master he’d previously bested, faint snoring could be heard. 

Observing the man closer, Ethan detected a small trail of drool escaping his slack mouth. As he glanced over Lance’s entire shape, something decidedly seemed off about his appearance. Shifting about, what it was became abundantly clear to him. The Champion had lost his pants and left boot, which was partially concealed by his signature black cape. . 

The situation called for further investigation, but Ethan was far too exhausted to properly carry it out. His orbs lidded heavily as he caught his breath. Soon, the boy drifted into a peaceful slumber, as only Cresselia herself could conjure. 

While Lance and Ethan slept away their troubles, the others had received their gifts as Delibird and Abomasnow looked on with pride and joy. Wrappers of ruby, sapphire and emerald littered the floor and elsewhere, accompanied by flashes of pearl and platinum ribbons about. Assorted chatter rang throughout: Squeals of joys, muffled gasps, low grumbles and such. 

In the scuffle, Will managed to sneak into their hordes, cradling a clear bowl in his arms. Keys of all colors and shapes filled it, jangling as he moved about. Extending a slim arm to the sky, he called out loudly to capture everyone’s attention.

"Okay, we’re ready," the Elite shouted out as countless sets of eyes focused on his form. "Everyone’s keys are in the pot, so come on up, ladies!" At his exclamation, a gaggle of women got up to fetch the implements from their glassy prison. Limbs tangled and knocked about each other as their owners obtained their charges for the night. 

The chatter became even louder as fate revealed itself once more. Muttering to herself, Clair felt a tangle of cool metal against her fingers. The woman’s eyes were shut, as not to spoil the mystery she awaited. In the bustle, she could feel a particular key-chain in the mix, shaped like a dragon’s claw. Subconsciously sensing their owner, she grasped it tightly as it was pulled forth. 

As her cerulean orbs popped open, her suspicions were confirmed. With a heavy sigh, Clair glanced over to her sleeping cousin, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

"Hey, Clair!" Erika shouted out, waving over the crowd. "What happened?" Turning to peer at her fellow Gym Leader, she forced a civil smile, not wanting to draw the other’s wrath. All seemed well, as Erika shuffled to her, moving past the other guests. At her side was Sabrina, who appeared to part their masses with her Psychic influence. 

"Oh, it’s nothing," Clair stated despondently, absentmindedly toying with the keys in her palm. Aching to diffuse her dismay, she motioned for her companions to come closer, eyeing the keys in their own hands. "Who’d you two get?"

"Ah, I got Falkner," Erika declared with a sweeping glance to her chosen partner. He was currently dancing about to the loud, energetic music so many had derided earlier that evening. Against the erratic beat, his movements seemingly mimicked those of the Flying types he so adored. Snickering to herself, she peered back to Clair and Sabrina. "Works for me. How about you, Sabrina?"

"I got a Brock," the Psychic dryly stated, practically feeling the man’s eager hands all over her body. She knew he wasn’t remotely near her at the moment, but it was more a mental preparation than anything. All knew he feverishly craved the attention of his female colleagues, which she was curious to determine for herself. "If all fails, I’ve no one to blame but myself. And you, Clair?" 

"Man, I got Lance," the other Dragon Master admitted, pointing her thumb to her inebriated kin. She could hear her companions’ snickering already, highly amused by all that entailed. "Shut it, you two! It’s not like that, despite whatever you may have heard!"

With another irate eye roll, Clair stretched her arms out as she walked over to the couch her cousin currently occupied. While she moved about, the woman muttered to herself, cursing Arceus for placing her fate as such.

"Why couldn’t I have gotten Morty’s keys instead?" she asked within, gazing longingly at her fellow Johto born leader. Though the man maintained a docile look in his violet orbs, he still remained as handsome and respectable as usual. It was a far cry from her kin’s disordered appearances as of late. "But, no, I have to babysit Lance’s drunk ass instead!"

As the woman approached the couch, two youthful forms entered her line of vision. One she recognized as another Johto leader, Bugsy, but the other lad was utterly foreign to her. Adorned in an over-sized orange and cream striped sweater, his golden locks and lively nature brought to mind Tower Tycoon Palmer, head of her homeland’s Battle Frontier.

Questioning the boy’s relations would have to wait, though: It became clear what they’d come to accomplish. Brandishing dark markers, the boys scribbled all over Lance and Ethan’s faces, adorning them with crude words and cock shaped markings. Their raucous laughter rang throughout, breaking the relative silence present. 

Ready to scream and laugh out loud, Clair rushed over to their spot, hands outstretched to grasp the delinquent youths. “Hey, you get away from them!” she hollered out, grabbing at their clothing. Startled by her presence, Bugsy writhed and squirmed like the insects he was dubbed after. “What the hell are you two doing?!”

In the commotion, the other boy bounced and kicked at his captor, jabbing her in the knee. As Clair jumped back to relieve the pain that struck her, her eyes snapped shut. Mouth curled into a grimace, she grit her teeth as a man’s booming voice further assaulted her senses. 

"Barry, get back here!" the stranger shouted to her dismay. Blue orbs opened to see Palmer himself, further prying the other lad away. "Get off of Mr. Lance!" Notions of their relation confirmed, Clair merely stood by, content to have Bugsy under her grasp for the moment. 

"I’m so sorry," Palmer apologized, twisting Barry’s ear in his rough fingers. "I take my eyes off the boy and he’s off makin’ trouble! This is why I can’t take him anywhere!" With furrowed brows, Clair glared at Bugsy, who had his head lowered in shame. Recognizing the boy’s discomfort, she shoved him aside, softly berating his foolish behavior. Relived from her grip, he scurried back to the greater crowd. 

"Eh, it’s no skin off my back," the woman said, shrugging ever so slightly. "I’ve someone to look after, too." While she spoke of her predicament, occasionally peeking back to Lance’s disoriented form, Palmer nodded as only one with shared experience could. Within his father’s grasp, Barry still writhed about, desperately trying to break free.

"I hear you, Clair," Palmer retorted, drawing his rowdy son achingly close. "They’re quite a handful, aren’t they?" Unfazed by Barry’s gasping breaths, the man listened on, free hand at his chin. As the two conversed on all manner of things, Clair began to feel her spirits lighten considerably.

After all that’d happened, it was rather nice to share the other’s company. Despite their unusual circumstances, Clair felt herself becoming more drawn in by the man’s brisk, authoritative nature. Against soft, multi-colored lights, she could truly appreciate how ruggedly handsome Palmer was. Perhaps the evening was worth salvaging after all, she thought inwardly. 

Becoming more brazen in her actions, the woman drew closer to him, a sly grin creeping on her lips. When their eyes locked once more, she could tell he shared her intent as well. There was no denying the knowing glint in his bright orbs, nor his fingers at her own chin. So clear was their attraction that Barry knew it as well, to his disgust. 

Between frenzied wriggles and eye rolls, all the boy could muster was mock gagging noises upon witnessing the sight. Having decided their flirting was “punishment” enough, Palmer released his son, sending him away with another scolding.

A few more words passed between them, promising to retrieve the boy after all was said and done. Now thoroughly embarrassed by his father, Barry soon disappeared from sight, shaking his head all throughout. 

"Now that everything’s settled," Clair murmured, running her fingers long the other’s chest. "Let’s go have some fun, shall we?" Without missing a beat, she knelt down to tap at Lance’s back.

While he came to, the Dragon Master groggily sat up, complaining of how his head now ached. Eager to assist him, Clair and Palmer helped him up, holding his arms for support. As their trio carefully ventured through the crowd, Lance muttered a spiel regarding some extra-strength Exeggcute Nog and how he’d lost his pants in the scuffle. 

Though the situation was rather absurd, none could really complain at this point. After all, Christmas was a time for joyous festivities, despite how unruly they could become. If the time only came once a year to truly let loose, so be it. As it stood, Lance had worn himself out enjoying all it entailed, drunk or not. 

Likewise, his companions were more than ready to enjoy their evening, albeit in a different manner. Carrying the Champion in their grasp, Clair and Palmer came across more of their associates, dancing to a new, but equally obnoxious tune now. Taking a moment to listen in, the two could make out various words through the blaring beat. 

Acting as a lucky chant of sorts, the music certainly seemed to bring out the raucous, festive spirit in all. Falkner still moved about, this time engaged in a square dance. At his limbs were Eusine and Whitney, rapidly circling him as they tried to stay on beat. Their other companions were far less concerned with appearances, clapping and bouncing with no regard to it all. 

Among their masses was Barry himself, having found an appropriate outlet for his vast liveliness. Stepping among others, the boy seemed rather intrigued by Leader Misty, who danced with an equivalent vigor. Assured his son wouldn’t cause too much trouble now, Palmer smiled to himself he watched on. 

"Give us one more round!" the Suicune hunter exclaimed, tilting his head towards their appointed musicians. "Come on, turn this loud-ass, garbage music up!" At his request, the DJ increased the volume, causing Lance to wince sharply. 

Taking their cue to move along, Clair and Palmer pressed on quickly en route to Lance’s room. Once the Dragon Master was safely tucked away, the two left hand in hand, ready to throw their own caution to the wind.


End file.
